Humor, Life
Comments 11

A vexing loss in the spousal competition.

I’m not saying that the WideEyedSpouse and I compete against each other. That would be a gross exaggeration. However, it is nice to get a win every now and again, to be better at something, like say, concocting the best dill pickle or power shifting in the powerful Mach 5 (the demon on wheels, my Mini Cooper S). Of course the decision as to who is better at any given event is subject to in-house debate. Data proofs and examples are required during the win-lose negotiations. We may query the dogs for their perspective. The judges, Spouse and I, are not impartial. It has happened that I determined myself the winner regardless of the Spouse’s contrary findings. It’s all in good fun. Mostly.

Yesterday an external judge gave the Spouse a win that will haunt me for decades.

This is from before we had our own gear. Even then there were hints that I was going to not win.

This is from before we had our own gear. Even then there were hints that I was going to not win.

We have had exactly the same number of Olympic recurve-style archery lessons. Six. At them, we stand side by side at the range and are coached as we shoot. We have almost exactly the same gear, except for our differences in size and strength.

Until yesterday I believed that neither of us was winning at the archery skills affinity contest yet. This took a certain amount of self-delusion because I could clearly see that the Spouse’s arrows were more often in the bullseye. Mine are little wider ranging. But still, belief is powerful.

Evidently after you loose an arrow you are supposed to maintain your posture while allowing the bow fall as it will. I was told it is like following through in golf or bowling, neither of which is in my skillset. It seems that after I loose the arrow and I immediately collapse my arms and back, entirely ruining the shot. Coach corrected me several times, using a variety of phases: “Keep that arm up. Where’s that arrow? Watch that bow. Stay in position. Follow it through.” Then she uttered the words that, to be fair, I may have deserved.

“Watch your Spouse,” she said, “he’ll show you how it’s done.” Silence fell across the range. The Spouse, poised to shoot, froze. His eyes wandered over to me and I could his see him trying to stop the spread of him smarmy smirk. I glared at the side of his head. I tried to bore a hole into it, far enough to give him a tiny memory lobotomy with my laser eyes.

I failed.

For years I will hear “watch me, I’ll show you how it’s done,” irritating in its own right, and an eternally vexing reminder of my failure to win on that day.  Can you hear my teeth grinding?


  1. This “who is better” is all a perspective issue. Sure, you could be like the majority and aim for the bullseye… But why follow the crowd. Likd mom and dad used to say, if your friends jumped off a bridge, would you?? (Well I guess that’s a bad expression bc jumping off train bridges in to the tuckahoe did in fact occur, but you get my drift) but to attempt to NOT hit the bullseye and get as close as possible is a feit. Way to go! Sorry wideyedspoyse, still love ya.
    FYI, did you know that grandmom and grand pop Heinrich costarted the Philadelphia Archery club?! Pretty cool right?

    • Hey Bud,
      I didn’t know that – about the archery club. That’s cool. And just for an update – Spouse missed the target and shot an arrow into the brush down here in NJ. We acquired 7 ticks in the time it took us to find it. I’ll name that as my win, or at least his loss.

  2. momtowideeyedspouse says

    Definition: “smarmy smirk”: an annoying facial expression formed in childhood; a sign of things to come; or a victory.

  3. I feel your pain.
    My good lady is a heaps better writer than I am and……………. she doesn’t write…….. hardly at all……… heaps better but she just doesn’t……………. she doesn’t see it this way but it taunts me!…………. heaps better but does other things!
    Just kidding……….. she’s an amazing lady and I’m ok that she is better than me at some things ’cause I’m a foot taller than her. [actually a foot and one inch, but who’s counting?]

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